


Divided We Fall

by Piper_Emerald



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Zuko, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Stubborn Katara, TW: Mentions of Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piper_Emerald/pseuds/Piper_Emerald
Summary: Zuko will never act on his feelings for Katara. She’s smart, full of light, and he knows she can do so much better than him.  However, when she suffers a life-changing injury and both of their worlds are turned upside down, he must grow up in a hurry to help her fight to adjust.





	Divided We Fall

**Author's Note:**

> For Tumblr user @wombatking

Zuko didn’t like parties. They were loud and obnoxious and full of loud and obnoxious people. He’d spent the entirety of middle school and his first two years of high school avoiding any type of social gathering. He didn’t have the time or patience to put up with the flakes and jerks who hated him anyway. He was better off being a loner.

He bitterly reminded himself of this as he made his way through the crowded beach, trying not to cringe at the overly cheery faces he was forced to pass in the hallway every school day. It was the first day of spring break. He should be sleeping or doing something remotely fun, not uncomfortably hovering through yet another one of Sokka’s stupid parties. How the dork was able to get half their school to show up to his event was a mystery to Zuko.

He scanned the crowd around him for someone that he could at least stand by for a few minutes. Toph was sitting under one of the disgustingly bright beach umbrellas, looking just as out of place as he felt. A group of girls in his grade walk past her, loudly complaining about their sheltered, petty problems.

In a swift motion, Toph scooped up a handful of wet sand and launched it in their direction. Zuko felt a smirk form on his face when the sand hit its mark. Toph then plastered on an innocent smile that anyone who actually knew her could see through in a heartbeat, using her blindness as a flimsy excuse. The stuck up girls bought it, as they rushed off to scrape the wet sand from their expensive bikini tops.

Toph was cool like that. She knew that people saw her as disadvantaged, but instead of letting it bother her she used that as a weapon. She knew how to play off of the stupid people around her and have a good time while she was at it. Zuko envied that.

“Nice one,” he commented as he walked over to her.

“Who dragged you here?” She asked point blank. Toph didn’t do small talk. That was fine with Zuko. He hated suffering through awkward pleasantries that no one actually gave a damn about.

“My uncle,” he said stiffly.

That was true for the most part. Uncle Iroh hadn’t forced Zuko to drive to the beach, but he had casually pointed out the amount of times that Katara had asked him to at least show up. Guilt tripping was a low blow, and Zuko was still getting used to how effective it was proving to be.

“This stuff isn’t any fun without Aang.” Toph’s complaint brought him back to the present.

Zuko had to agree with her. Aang had been the self appointed mediator of the quirky friend group Katara had dragged Zuko into. He knew everyone’s boundaries and found ways to work around them. At events like this he knew how to be the life of the party, and had gotten away with tricking Zuko into having a good time more than once.

The group wasn’t the same since he’d moved away at the beginning of the school year. The role of peace keeper had shifted to Katara, but she had a bit of a temper. Zuko was pretty sure it was a side effect of caring too much. He’d told her this once, she hadn’t exactly been amused.

That thought made him grin. Part of him liked riling her up. He liked watching the spark in her eyes when she started an argument. He liked watching it grow into a shine when she realized how right she was. She had so much passion, and it amazed him how even the smallest things could get her going.

Looking back, he guessed it was funny that he liked to see her fight, since fighting was how their friendship started.

As if aware he was thinking about her, Katara and her brother took that moment to appear. Sokka was clearly reveling in how many people he’d managed to get to show up to his cheesy celebrating-spring-break party. Zuko would admit that it was an accomplishment, even if he could never understand why anyone would take pride in it.

“Hey,” Katara smiled at him and Toph.

She looked beautiful. Her dark hair was pinned out of her face, highlighting the radiance that shone  off her tanned skin. She was always bright. It didn’t matter how much warmth she’d already spent. An endless supply of light pooled off her, filling the space around her. She lifted people up—she drew them in, probably without even noticing.

Katara rarely wore makeup. Zuko figured this was probably just because she didn’t have time to fuss over how she looked, and not that she realized she didn’t need it. He hoped she never started, part of him was scared that adding powder and colors would taint her shine.

“Hi,” he said. He didn’t tell her she looked amazing. He didn’t tell her that her presence made the aggravating surroundings slip into a blur.

Zuko had gotten used to keeping these thoughts under wraps. That didn’t mean there hadn’t been slip ups. There were times when he stared too long, or didn’t realize that he wasn’t masking his emotions. Katara never noticed these moments, Sokka did.

Aang had as well. He used to tease Zuko about it relentlessly. After finally getting over the painfully obvious crush he’d had on Katara, Aang had been certain that she and Zuko would eventually fall into each other’s arms. Those were the words he’d used each time he’d excitedly explained it to Zuko.

On weaker days, Zuko went with the fantasy, but when he was being brutally honest with himself he knew how impossible the rosy picture was. Aang had never been good at accepting reality, especially if it meant he had to think about the negative parts of someone. He didn’t understand that Katara deserved better than Zuko. Even if she felt the same—and there were moments when he thought she might—she didn’t need someone who matched her light with darkness.

“Come on, you guys gotta stop moping and have fun for once,” Sokka informed them.

This was how it always started. Somewhere Zuko could recognize that Sokka wasn’t actively trying to get under his skin. Somewhere he understood that there were always going to be things that other people didn’t get—there were always going to be buttons they didn’t mean to push that would send him over the edge. It was on him to stay calm, to not snap. He had always been shit at that.

The next thing he knew they were bickering about the party, and not about the party. For Zuko it was always boiled down to the same argument that they’d had a million times. Why couldn’t Zuko have fun? Why couldn’t he lighten up? Why couldn’t he stop dragging everyone else down with him?

Katara tried to cut in. She tried to make them both shut up for one second and realize that all they were doing was pissing each other off, and ruining everyone else’s time. Sokka was never good at listening to her when she tried to break up a fight. Neither was Zuko. Katara was hot headed, her telling anyone to calm down was hypocritical.

Zuko pulled himself back, not out of clarity but irritation. He wasn’t at school. He wasn’t being forced to continue this conversation, or even stay at the shitty party. He said as much, and turned to walk away.

He couldn’t go home. If he arrived back this early his uncle would think something had happened, and besides not even he was that dramatic. Instead he headed in the direction of the cliffs overlooking the beach. The climb up was easy. Zuko wasn’t the most athletic person he knew, but the knowledge of his earlier years of martial arts his mother had made (and father had allowed) him to attend were still in his body. Soon he found himself with an unobstructed view of the ocean and clear sky above it.

The beach was nicer here. He couldn’t see the party full of happy people who didn’t like him. Instead it was just water, and sand, and sky. It was calm and peaceful—two things he struggled to maintain. Maybe this was why other people liked going to the beach. Standing here, he didn’t feel like he needed to keep his armor up.

People told him he didn’t relax enough, but really he didn’t have enough chances to. How could anyone who knew how awful the world was relax? It didn’t matter if he was in high school or a battlefield, people were always ready to cut him down. He had to be prepared to fight back.

He wasn’t like his friends. He didn’t know how to make people like him. Katara and Sokka weren’t popular, but they could make friends with just about anyone. They knew how to be nice to people they didn’t even know. Zuko couldn’t do that. He never could. He stuck out at school and it was hard not to resent the people around him for not letting him fit in. That only got worse when he got his scar and—

And he wasn’t going to think about that. He wasn’t going to think about Katara either, and how she’d somehow become intertwined with the bad memories, bleeding light and understanding into them. Or how she was probably so disappointed in him right now.

Instead he looked out over the calm, quiet ocean. He hadn’t been to this beach before. He liked it more than he thought he would. It reminded him of another beach he’d been to a long time ago.

* * *

_He was playing in the sand. He wanted to build a sandcastle. The tide kept trying to wash it away. After several attempts he finally built the first wall. He was proud. It was a good wall._

_His sister was next to him. She wasn’t having fun. She never had fun._

_Their parents were sitting nearby. His father looked bored, but his mother was watching them play. Zuko showed her his wall. It was going to be a big castle by the end of the day. He would build it so tall that the waves wouldn’t ever knock it down._

_His mother laughed. She told him she was sure that he could build a great castle. Zuko looked over to where his father was sitting. He wasn’t watching them. He didn’t care about Zuko’s wall. Zuko told himself that was alright. When the castle was done, his father would be impressed._

_He started piling sand for the next wall. He needed this one to be even stronger. As he pushed the sand a small crab crawled out between his fingers. Zuko watched it walk. It was headed toward the ocean. Zuko scrambled in front of it, trying to guide it back to the sand. He didn’t remember if his teacher said crabs could swim or not._

_Gently, he pushed it toward a mountain of sand and watched it disappear within the grains. He smiled. He saved the crab._

_Standing up, he turned to tell his mother. Maybe his father would pay attention now. After all, saving a life was more impressive than his sand wall. He looked up in time to see his sister crush his castle._

_He shouted at her. She started crying, she ran to their father. He told Zuko to stop yelling. He told him to grow up._

_That wasn’t fair. Azula shouldn’t get to do that and get away with it. It wasn’t right._

_His mother shushed him. She told him they could build it again. That together they could make an even better castle. She looked at him through pained eyes, and pursed her lips._

_Why was it so hard to remember her smiling?_

* * *

Katara was kinda pissed off. No, she was fed up. Fed up with her friends fighting, fed up with them not listening to her, fed up with Zuko cutting himself off from everyone else yet again. This always happened. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t just get along for a few minutes. They didn’t have to take every tiny comment to heart.

Alright, she was probably one to talk with that one. The real solution would be for comments not to be made in the first place, but Sokka and Zuko had the verbal filters of children.

She sighed to herself. Sokka didn’t understand Zuko. He didn’t get that words got under his skin, and he didn’t choose to react angrily. The anger was a part of him. Katara was scared that it always would be.

Not that she could blame him. After everything the guy had gone through, she was surprised he could find it in him to be kind and gentle. That was the side of him that most people didn’t see, or even think that he had. It was Katara’s favorite side of Zuko.

Gentle Zuko was nicer, but he didn’t go out of his way to tailor his words. He bickered with her, and laughed at her, and knew how to have fun. It took a long time for Katara to meet this Zuko, and she didn’t get to see him all that often. He existed in the moments where Zuko allowed himself to let all his walls down. They were fragile moments, but they were beautiful.

It wasn’t too hard to get Sokka to calm down after the argument. She didn’t try to talk sense into him now. She’d do that to the both of them, but she could choose her moments better. They were supposed to be having fun. It was a nice day, and the water was begging her to go swimming.

That was a good idea. If she could get everyone (spare Toph) into the water, they’d forget that they were mad at each other. They’d have fun for once and be glad that it was finally spring break.

Katara was more excited for the idea of vacation than she’d been in years. Junior year was killing her. She guessed that might have been her fault, since she had been the one to take on as many AP classes as their school would allow. Sokka on the other hand, had spent his time hatching a “brilliant plan” to coast ’til college. His work ethic annoyed her. Most people’s work ethics annoyed her.

She’d had the mindset pushing herself. She’d had that even before they’d let her skip a grade in middle school. Being the only fifteen-year-old in her grade level just made it more rewarding when she came out top of the class. She enjoyed challenges. School was just a series of contests.

“Do you know where Zuko went?” Katara asked Toph, once Sokka had forgotten his irritation and was busy chasing after Suki.

“He didn’t say anything,” Toph stated, clearly annoyed.

“Right,” Katara mumbled. She scanned the crowd around her. More people had showed up than she expected. Zuko probably hated that. He’d never liked crowds.

Her eyes landed on a figure standing over the cliff arching over the water. Well, that was very him. Shaking her head, she headed up the slope. Maybe she could convince him to come down for a bit. They planned to get a game of volleyball going at some point. That would get Zuko and Sokka on speaking terms, Sokka loved strategizing and Zuko had pretty good aim and reflexes.

“Hey,” she said when she reached the top, making sure he realized it was her. He had to have heard her coming, but he hadn’t turned around. “Look, I know you’re mad but—”

The next thing she knew he had jumped. She ran to the edge in time to see him cannonball into the water below.

“Seriously?” She shouted after him.

She felt annoyance course through her. He could have at least heard her out, it wasn’t like she was the one he’d been fighting with. No, she was there to try to make him feel better. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult?

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself.

He wasn’t getting away that easily. She was just as good of a swimmer as him, and had never been afraid of heights. If he thought he could get out of talking to her by jumping, he was dead wrong. Taking a deep breath, Katara dove off the bluff.

Looking back, she felt inclined to think that what happened next happened in slow motion—that each fraction of moment slipped by with clarity and understanding. In reality it all went too fast.

The fall was exhilarating, bearing the ignorant bliss only the seconds before a life changing instant can. She saw the blue water ahead of her, she felt the air whip past her face. Her eyes were open, she was far past the fear of getting salt in them.

She saw the blur of brown that was the sandbar before she felt it, but she didn’t realize exactly how much she’d misjudged the distance of the drop until she collided head first.

A sickening crack filled her ears as she felt her neck snap back. Her vision blurred, and part of her knew it wasn’t just from the water. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, as her heart pounded in her chest and pain shot through her body.

She saw the ocean floor. She loved swimming in areas like this. She loved seeing the land and water collide. Now it mocked her.

Doing her best to block out the pain, she tried to push herself to the surface. She could be scared and berate herself once she was lying on the sand. She tried to pump her arms and make the water propel her up, like she learned back when her father had first taught her how to swim.

She couldn’t move her arms. She couldn’t move at all. She was floating underwater and she couldn’t move.

* * *

Zuko knew it was kind of a dick move to jump, but he really wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about how he needed to stop lashing out at little things. It had nothing to do with him not wanting her to see him crying.

He hadn’t been crying. He’d been thinking of a stupid memory from a very long time ago that didn’t mean anything to him anymore. He didn’t cry about memories. They no longer had that power over him.

He heard her dive after him. Well, he definitely was going to get that lecture now. That was fine. He’d like to see her try to scold him while bobbing in the water.

A laugh escaped his lips as he resurfaced. He didn’t try to swallow it, no one was around but Katara and he hadn’t felt this light in ages. This was so very them, and God help him if he loved it. He loved that he could be overly dramatic and she would follow him right into it.

His eyes scanned the water around him, waiting for her to pop up and start splashing him. The laugh on his lips faded. She should have surfaced by now. She might have dove a little bit after him, but she wouldn’t have gone under for this long.

She wasn’t coming up. Why wasn’t she coming up?

Panic burned through him. Zuko hated panic. He hated how it could wrench his control away from him and leave him a helpless mess. Frantically, he pushed through the water around him. He’d jumped farther from the cliff, he’d realized it would have been dangerous not to. What if Katara—

He saw her body floating a few feet away from him. Moving faster than he thought possible, he swam to her. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her head above the water. He didn’t let go as she gasped for breath. He’d never heard a more terrifying sound.

She had just been floating, face down. He knew how deadly a couple seconds could be underwater. She could have drowned. She could have _died_.

Almost on a reflex, Zuko tightened his grip on Katara. She wasn’t holding him back. Aside from the uneven breaths, she wasn’t moving at all.

“Are you okay?” He asked. His voice was louder and rougher than he meant it to be, but she didn’t wince.

“No,” she gasped out. “I can’t move. I couldn’t breathe.”

She was in shock.

“I’m getting you to shore,” he told her. “Can you hold onto me?”

“No,” there was fear in her eyes. Zuko decided then and there that he was going to do everything he could to make sure she never looked like that again.

“Okay,” he tried to sound—he tried to sound like he knew what the hell he was doing. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He slowly maneuvered the both of them to the beach. When the water was shallow enough, he looped his arm under her, carrying her bridal style to shore. He felt her head lean into his shoulder. In the back of his mind he remembered how much he’d longed to be this close to her. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Sokka and Toph met them at the shore. Sokka must have seen him carrying her. Zuko gently laid her on the sand before collapsing next to her. All adrenaline had worn off, leaving him drained and scared.

“What happened?” Sokka demanded, worry that Zuko rarely saw etched across his face.

“She dove after me,” Zuko told them. “I found her floating.”

“I hit a sand bar,” Katara said between breaths. “Sokka, you need to call an ambulance.”

“Just breath,” Zuko started. “You’re in shock—”

“No,” terror was seeping into her voice. “I can’t move!”

“I’m calling 911,” Sokka frantically fished his phone out of his pocket.

Zuko felt a pit form in his stomach.

* * *

_She was sitting in the hospital waiting room. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She could feel tear tracks on her face, but she couldn’t remember crying. The nurses told her that she had to wait here. They didn’t let her into the room with him. She guessed that made sense, but she couldn’t stand not being by his side._

_She didn’t know why she was the one he called. He’d sounded so lost and broken, she’d never heard him let his guard down so completely. As she sat, replaying the events in her head, she hoped she’d done the right thing. She could have moved faster, she could have called the ambulance right away instead of asking what happened._

_She knew what happened. She didn’t need the details to have a clear image in her mind. Why hadn’t she said something to someone sooner? Her father would have tried to help, the school counselor would have. She could have done something, whether he wanted her to or not._

_When she closed her eyes she could still see his face. He was bleeding. Half his face was bleeding._

_She couldn’t breath. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this terrified or this angry._

_She wanted to kill the person who’d done this. She wanted to demand an answer from life, because this was not alright. Zuko didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve any of it._

* * *

Katara opened her eyes to a white, dimly lit room she’d never seen before. She was lying down, but this wasn’t her bed.

She was in a hospital.

In a jumbled rush, the events at the beach came back to her. She had dove off the cliff after Zuko. She remembered hitting her head, she remembered lying in the water, she remembered thinking she was going to die.

Zuko found her in time. He'd pulled her to safety and carried her to shore. She couldn’t swim for herself, her arms and legs wouldn’t work, she couldn’t move. Suddenly the panic from the moment in the water was back. She tried to sit up, she tried to fight the stillness in her body, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t get herself to.

“I can’t move,” she said out loud.

It was only when the words left her lips that she realized she wasn’t alone in the room. Sokka was sitting next to her. Alertness shot through his body. She realized he must have been dozing off a moment ago.  

“I know,” he looked scrambled. That didn’t usually happen. “Dad’s talking to the nurses, I’ll tell them you’re awake—”

“Why can’t I move?” She asked before he could stand up.

“I—” He looked down at her with sad eyes. She didn’t like that look. The last time she’d seen it was their mother’s funeral. “They called it a C4/5 level spinal cord injury.”

“I’m paralyzed,” the words felt numb.

“From the shoulders down,” Sokka said.

“For how long?” She asked. “When did they say I should get better?”

“They said maybe never,” he wasn’t looking at her.

“No,” Katara could hear her own voice shaking. “This isn’t happening.”

“Katara—” He was worried now. He’d stopped being worried for her a long time ago.

“This can’t happen,” she uttered.

Katara had plans for her life. Not ones that would take years to accomplish, ones she was already working on. She spent years working, at school and in her personal life. She had goals, there were things she still needed to do. This couldn’t happen—not to her.

“Katara, calm down!”

Sokka’s voice broke through her thoughts, as if he could hear them. Maybe he could. For all their ups and downs, they were close enough to read each other. They were close enough for this to hurt him too.

“I’ll get Dad,” he started.

“No,” her voice wasn’t firm. It was small. She’d promised herself years ago she’d stop being small. “Can you stay with me for a minute?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, voice close to breathless. “Whatever you want.”

Katara closed her eyes. Sokka was right, she needed to calm down. She needed to think.

She’d heard of cases where, with the right balance of physical therapy people were able to beat things like this. Katara was strong. She was the strongest person that she knew. She could beat this. The doctors didn’t know her, they didn’t know what she was capable of withstanding. She could recover, she just needed to fight.

“I’m gonna kill Zuko.” Sokka’s words brought her back to reality.

“Sokka.” She couldn’t deal with this now.

“He’s the reason this happened,” there was anger in his voice. Anger and something else. He was scared. He hadn’t let her see him scared in years.

“You didn’t say anything to him, did you?” Katara asked, dread filling her.

“It’s his fault you got hurt in the first place!” Sokka was shouting now.

“No, it isn’t,” she tried to tell him.

If they fought about this, Zuko might have yelled back but chances were he’d just taken it. He was probably just as upset as Sokka. What if he’d agreed with him?

“I knew he was bad news,” Sokka kept going. “I knew from the very beginning—”

“Will you listen to me for once in your life?” Katara’s voice cut through the room, shattering the enraged haze that had enveloped her brother a moment before.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was soft now.

“Don’t,” Katara didn’t finish. She didn’t tell him that this wasn’t how she wanted him to listen to her. It was supposed to be because he knew she was right, not because she was hurt and he didn’t want to upset her.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She could do that. Maybe talking through it would help.

* * *

Zuko was surprised he’d made it home from the hospital the day of the accident. He was surprised that he hadn’t thrown himself into the closest and most reckless form of danger he could find. He deserved to. This was his fault.

He was the reason Katara was on that cliff. He was the reason she jumped. He was the reason she almost died.

What was happening now was almost worse than if she had drowned. She was the most ambitious person he knew, not being able to move would kill her. It would lock her down, and rip everything she’d been so close to achieving out of her hands.

He did this. Everything he touched burst into flames, and everyone who got close to him always got burned. He’d known this since he was a kid. He should have learned from it. If he’d ever cared about her, he would have made her stay away.

Zuko didn’t leave his room the next few days. His uncle wasn’t happy with that, but there wasn’t much he could do. He brought Zuko his meals and tea, and tried to coax exactly what had happened out of him, but Zuko didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw her floating in the water.

On thefifth day of spring break, his uncle—rather forcefully—dragged him out of bed. He demanded that Zuko stop moping and go to the hospital. He asked Zuko how Katara must feel—what she must bethinking after everyone but him had paid her a visit. Zuko hadn’t wanted to wonder what Katara was thinking. That meant imagining a Katara that resented him for what he’d done.

Uncle Iroh wouldn’t listen to that, saying that Zuko knew this girl well enough to know that she wasn’t blaming him. Even if she was, if that kept him away maybe he deserved the blame. Zuko didn’t tell his uncle that he was positive he did, but he agreed to go to the hospital.

He needed to face this at some point.

Hospitals didn’t make Zuko uncomfortable. He knew that feeling creeped around the medical material was supposed to be normal, but he’d never experienced this. Sometimes they made him sad. They reminded him of the days before his life completely wentto hell. They brought back memories of sitting by his mother’s bedside, thinking that somehow they were going to be a family again—thinking they’d ever been a family in the first place.

Zuko knew what floor Katara was on, but not what room. His plan of walking around until he got lucky didn’t go as smoothly as he hoped.

“Are you lost?” The nurse asked. She looked more peeved than concerned.

“No, I’m here to see someone,” Zuko stated, trying to mentally will her to leave him alone. Instead she looked at him expectantly. “Her name is Katara. I’m not sure what room she’s in, but—”

“Are you family?” The nursed asked, almost accusingly.

“Hey!” Sokka’s voice cut through the air. Zuko turned to see him trotting their way from the other end of the hall. “You just get here?”

Sokka looked from Zuko to the nurse.

“He’s with me,” he informed her. As if that was supposed to make whatever hold up there was go away.

Zuko wasn’t sure if he should facepalm or just be glad that Sokka wasn’t trying to kick him out of the hospital. Considering the last thing he’d done was scream at Zuko that all of this was his fault, that outcome had seemed a lot more likely than whatever was going on right now.

“We’re only admitting family,” the nurse said to Sokka.

Zuko didn’t know Sokka as well as the other members of their group, but he knew him enough to recognize and fear when the gears in his brain were turning. This was one of those moments.

“This is my cousin,” Sokka told the nurse. “Lee.”

Zuko blinked at him. Did he need to point out that no one in their right mind was going to think that someone who was obviously Japanese was related to someone who was clearly of native descent? It took a second for that to click for Sokka.

“Yeah,” he kept going. “He’s adopted. On our mom’s side. It’s weird and complicated. Right, Lee?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said stiffly.

“Come on,” Sokka grabbed Zuko by the shoulders and began to haul him away from the nurse. “I’ll show you where the room is.”

“Lee?” Zuko asked once they were out of earshot.

“I panicked,” Sokka shrugged. “But it worked."

“I guess,” Zuko would give him that.

“Listen,” Sokka stopped walking. “Katara told me what happened.”

“Right,” Zuko felt his blood run cold. Of course Sokka was still mad at him, he had every right to be.

“I’m sorry I blew up at you,” Sokka sounded more genuine than Zuko had ever heard from him.

“No, it’s fine,” Zuko told him. He was the one who should be apologizing.

“It’s not,” Sokka pressed. “Katara—she’s kinda all I’ve got. I mean, we have our dad and friends, but—”

He winced. He wasn’t looking at Zuko. He was never this vulnerable.

“I promised our mom I’d take care of her.” The words fell from Sokka’s lips stagnantly. “I failed.”

“You didn’t,” Zuko said. He and Sokka didn’t always get along, but at the end of the day they still chose to be friends. Zuko didn’t like seeing him in this much pain, and knowing that there was nothing anyone could do to take it away.

“I should have been there,” Sokka exhaled. “I’m glad you were.”

“It was my fault she was,” Zuko reminded him.

“She said she would have drowned if it wasn’t for you,” Sokka said heavily. “Thanks. You’re a good guy. Super emo, but a good guy.”

He gave Zuko a sad smile.

“She’s in that room,” Sokka pointed to the door behind them. “I’m gonna go to the food court for a bit. She’s kinda annoyed at me hovering.”  

“Okay,” Zuko nodded.

He stood outside of the door for a second. He needed to walk in calm. He was ready for her to be mad at him. Whatever she needed to say, he’d take it. If this was the end, it was more than he deserved.

He pushed the door open.

The second his eyes landed on Katara, everything changed. She was lying motionless on the hospital bed. Her usual bright blue clothes, swapped with a plan whitegown. Her eyes weren’t closed but they might as well have been. They stared at the ceiling in a bored, saddened manner that felt jarring coming from her.

The light that usually danced all around her was gone.

Zuko couldn’t hide away and act like it was for the best. He couldn’t stuff his emotions into his darkest corners and pretend he didn’t feel, because this girl needed him. She needed him to grow up, and be strong.

She needed him like he had once needed her—like he still needed her. He needed her so much everyday.

He loved her. He loved everything about her from her smile, to her voice, to the way that she talked. He was so completely and hopelessly in love with her, and he was so mad that this had to be the place he realized it.

* * *

_The mirror in the boy’s bathroom of Zuko’s high school was shitty. No one cared enough to clean the stains and stupid graffiti. You’d think people would have better things to write than “I hate math” and “school sucks.”_

_He had a solid twenty minutes before the warning bell rang and he had to get to his homeroom. He couldn’t afford to be late for another class. He thought that the teachers would care less about tardiness in high school, but he was only a few months in and it seemed like all of them were out to get him. If he slipped up, they’d call home. He couldn’t let that happen._

_He poured a bit of the liquid foundation he’d stolen from his sister on to his finger tips. He rubbed the tan mush onto his chin, frustration growing when it did little to nothing to hide the dark purple mark. If a teacher saw this, they were going to ask questions. Zuko couldn’t think of a convincing enough lie._

_He put more of the foundation on his hands. It didn’t matter if he used all of it. What was Azula gonna do? Complain to their father that he stole her makeup?_

_Zuko’s hand curled into a fist. She never had to do this. She was never forced to bend until breaking point for their family. No, she was the princess, the perfect one. He was the one their father hated—the mess up, the waste of space, the failure._

_He punched the sink._

_From behind him, he heard a kid scramble out of the bathroom. He’d thought he was alone. Was he seriously that dumb that he couldn’t realize someone was watching him. That meant he should probably clear out. He couldn’t deal with them coming back, or telling someone he’d punched the sink._

_His hand rubbed the foundation across his chin. It still looked like a mess. He couldn’t leave until it was covered. That was more important than getting in trouble about hitting school property._

_“What are you doing?”_

_He whirled around to see a girl with dark brown hair standing in the doorway. He knew her. She was in a few of his classes. He was pretty sure her name was Katara._

_They didn’t get along. She was always trying to call him out or argue at whatever incorrect point he made. Preppy people were all the same._

_“What are you doing?” He asked back. “This is the boy’s bathroom.”_

_“Someone said you were attacking the wall.” Her hands were on her hips._

_“The walls fine,” he said through his teeth. “You can leave now.”_

_“What’s on your face?” She took a step closer to him._

_“Go away,” he said bitterly. He tried to turn around, but the next thing he knew she had crossed the room. Her hand was outstretched, inches from his face. “Don’t touch me!”_

_She retracted her hand, but didn’t step back. That wasn’t right. She was supposed to run away now, instead something too close to compassion flashed in her eyes._

_“You’re doing it wrong,” she said softly. “You’re supposed to blot. Here, can I?”_

_“Fine,” he muttered._

_Slowly, her fingers brushed against his face, smoothing the mess of makeup already on his skin. She then took the foundation bottle from his hands and applied a little bit more. When she was done, Zuko turned to the mirror. His jaw looked normal, not sickening like it had when he woke up._

_“Thanks,” he uttered._

_“Wow,” a small smirk formed on her face._

_“What?” He narrowed his eyes._

_“Didn’t think that word was in your vocabulary,” she snarked._

_He rolled his eyes._

_“What happened?” Her voice was softer now._

_“Nothing,” he said stiffly. He turned to leave._

_“Hey,” she started when he reached the door. When he looked back she was smiling at him. “I’ll see you in class.”_

_“Yeah,” he nodded._

_As he walked away he tried not to think about how soft her hands were. He tried not to ask himself how long it had been since someone was that gentle to him._

* * *

“Hey,” Zuko’s eyes were filled with something Katara didn’t understand. He didn’t walk into the room, he just stood there staring at her.

“Hi,” she tried to smile, but it didn’t feel real. “You can sit down, you know?”

“Oh,” he looked at the chair next to her bed. “Right.”

She didn’t know what to say to him. She wanted to ask why it took this long for him to show up. Why he hadn’t been there the second she woke up, like she would have been for him—like she knew he had to want for her.

The questions fell away as she looked at his face. She’s seen this version of him before. This was the boy she’d first met. This was the Zuko she’d befriended and guided. He had too many emotions that he didn’t know how to sort out, and was never going to admit how much that scared him.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice sounded hoarse. It was like the words were trying to rip his insides apart.

“Zuko.” She wanted to hug him. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him that it was going to be okay. She wanted to move to him.

“I’m the reason you jumped,” he said bitterly. “I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have even been on that stupid cliff.”

“Zuko, stop,” she was close to pleading. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” he insisted.

“No.” Her voice was louder and sharper than she’d meant it to be. “You don’t get to say that, okay? You don’t get to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“But—”

“You saved my life.” She knew this was true. She’d felt the fear and hopelessness of those seconds underwater. “I don’t wanna fight about this.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly she was angry. He never folded this easily. They always argued for longer, even if it was about things that didn’t matter. Instead he was taking a step back. He was looking at her as if he was scared she was going to break. He was looking at her like she was weak.

She couldn’t take that. Not from him.

“What did the doctors say?” He asked softly.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said through her teeth. “I’m going to recover.”

“They think so?” For a second he looked hopeful. Then he put two and two together. “Right. Yeah, I’m sure you can.”

“They said I might never be able to move my arms, or sit up on my own, or walk again,” she told him.

“I’m sorry,” he sounded so sad.

“I’m going to fight this,” she pressed.

“I know you are.” He took her hand in his. She couldn’t hold his back.

* * *

Zuko spent the rest of his spring break at the hospital. He was pretty sure he was there more than Katara’s family. No one pointed that out, of course. Once school started back up, he went straight from classes to Katara’s room. He did his homework on the chair by her bed, mainly because it didn’t take her long to realize he was neglecting studying in order to spend time with her.

They didn’t make him leave during her physical therapy. He didn’t know the name of Katara’s physical therapist. She didn’t talk to him much. Not that Zuko minded. He’d gotten one or two knowing smiles that assured him the woman thought the wrong idea. That was bound to happen, since no one really believed that he was her “adopted cousin, Lee.”

Watching the physical therapy was hard, but Zuko knew that if he stepped out of the room it would be harder. Katara didn’t like to show weakness—they had that in common—but he knew that she wanted him there. Somehow, his presence had become a silent support as she became more and more frustrated.

“I can go for longer,” Katara insisted not for the first time.

“That’s enough for today,” her therapist said warmly.

Zuko didn’t think Katara appreciated the warmth. She was ready to fight, and she didn’t know how to recognize that it wasn’t a battle she could win.

Zuko knew she wasn’t the first to realize this. He saw the unspoken words in Katara’s father’s eyes, in the half hearted attempts at humor Sokka tried to make, at the way her therapist slowly reduced the exercises geared toward recovery. She wasn’t going to recover.

She wasn’t progressing, she was just fighting and losing. Everyone could see this but her, and no one knew how to break her denial. She was too stubborn, too determined, and too intense. These were things Zuko loved about her, and they were breaking his heart.

* * *

Katara had always been very good at blocking out reality. When her mother first got sick, she’d been certain that she was going to get better. When Aang had told them that his father’s job was forcing them to move, she’d been certain they’d change their minds. When her therapist stopped the exercises and started teaching her how to use a mouthstick to push buttons and turn pages, she told herself that this was just in case.

The cruel thing about reality, is that you can never hide from it for long.

She was alone when she broke. It was late, Zuko had just gone home. He was staying later and later each day. She’d spent most of the day learning how to use the Sip-and-Puff wheelchair to move around without someone pushing her. It was hard, but she was getting the hang of it. That almost felt gratifying, until it made her sick.

She’d blocked out weeks worth of everyone around her accepting the truth, and it was crashing down around her in a broken wave of cruel, twisted reality. This was her life now. She’d thought that if she stayed motivated, if she kept fighting, she could beat this, but that wasn’t happening. She couldn’t beat it.

She wasn’t ever going to walk—she wasn’t ever going to move her arms again.

Alone in the dark hospital room, she cried tears she couldn’t wipe. She thought about everything that she’d spent her life working for. She was supposed to start applying for colleges next semester. Her counselors had looked at her GPA and told her she was going to have so many schools fighting to get her.

Then there were the silly, unimportant things. She thought about the parties that Sokka loved to throw and how they would dance terribly to loud music and laugh. She thought about swimming in the ocean, feeling the water on her skin. She thought about Zuko.

They’d been close to something. She knew he liked her. He wasn’t exactly subtle, even if he hadn’t made any moves. From the beginning she knew anything with him was going to take time. He had so many walls—they both did. They’d been close to breaking them all. Neither of them were in a rush, part of her had just figured that when the moment was right one of them would say something.

She loved him. She loved the way he debated with her. She loved how protective and loyal he was to anyone he called a friend. She loved that he didn’t need people to like him, he just needed her.

They would have been right together. They would have been good for each other.

She wasn’t good for anyone now.

* * *

_They were in the hospital. He had just been discharged a few minutes ago. As long as he kept applying the ointment to the burns and checked back in a week, he should be fine._

_She wanted to scoff at that. As if a kid who’s face had been critically burned could just be fine. He was hurt, he was hurt in so many ways and no one was saying anything._

_“You can’t tell anyone,” he wasn’t even looking at her._

_“Why?” She glared even though he wasn’t the one she was mad at. “You know one of your teachers are going to put two and two together.”_

_“I’m gonna say it was an accident,” he said decidely. “I was high and had a lighter—”_

_“No one is going to believe that,” she cut him off._

_“They think I’m stupid and reckless enough,” he said darkly._

_“Then I’m going to the police,” she meant this. Now he looked up at her._

_“You can’t,” he shook his head._

_“I have to,” she was going to cry. She really didn’t need for him to see her cry. Not right now._

_“You don’t get it,” he was angry now._

_Katara had accepted a long time ago that anger was Zuko’s default. It was so much easier than everything else he could feel right now. That was fine. He could be angry. She was angry too._

_“You don’t know my father,” he told her. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”_

_“So you’re gonna go back?” She questioned. “What about when something worse happens? And don’t you dare say it won’t.”_

_“I—”_

_That was when the anger faltered. There was something else in his eyes. He was scared. For the first time, he was scared and he didn’t know how to hide it from her._

_She broke first. That was a surprise. After pushing him so far, she was the one who crumbled. The tears she’d been fighting to keep at bay fell down her cheeks. Without thinking of the consequences, she crossed the room. She pulled him into her arms._

_“I’m sorry,” she said into his chest. “I just can’t watch him hurt you again.”_

_He inhaled sharply. She closed her eyes. She pretended the embrace could protect the both of them._

_“You know,” Zuko started. “I think you’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”_

_Katara had so many friends. How was it that this boy was the only one that mattered?_

_“It hurts to see you like this,” she told him._

_“I think it’s a permanent part of my face now,” he muttered._

_“You know that’s not what I mean,” she pulled back to look him in the eye.”I mean it hurts that someone can damage you like this, and I couldn’t stop them.”_

_“Yeah,” there was a sad smile on his face. Gently, she brushed her fingers over the bandages that covered the scar he’d only let her get a glimpse of._

_“Let me help you,” she pleaded._

_“Okay,” he breathed._

* * *

She came home a few weeks later. There house was exactly the same and so painfully different. It gave her a headache. Everything around her made her feel like she was reaching for the life she used to have—the life she’d taken for granted.

Sokka tried to act like everything was the same. Katara appreciated the effort, but not even his jokes could make her laugh. She wasn’t sure she’d ever really be able to laugh again. She was stuck in a doldrum and didn’t have the tools to navigate out.

They didn’t let her return to school. She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t leave the house on her own, she was in no condition to get from class to class. Even if she could, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the way people would look at her now.

Still, no matter how beaten and depressed she was, she wasn’t going to let herself fall behind academically. Especially now that it felt like that was the only thing she had left. The day she got home she emailed her teachers. They’d already been informed about her situation—the whole school had been. She explained that she was more than capable of keeping up with the work and asked them to send all homework home with Sokka.

The response she was met with was upsetting to say the least.

“They think I need to rest,” she complained to Zuko when he showed up at her house that afternoon.

He hadn’t said he was going to. She hadn’t asked him to either. They’d just both silently known that this was what they were doing now. She ignored how it made her feel. She’d already given up on that.

A dark look came over his face, then he nodded.

“I’ll take care of it,” he informed her.

The next day he showed up with a pile of homework for the weeks worth of classes she’d missed. When she asked how he’d managed that, he just shrugged. Given he was still in school, it was unlikely he’d threatened her teachers. Then again, this was Zuko.

He helped her catch up. He lent her the notes he took each day for the handful of classes they shared, and helped her try to make sense of the assignments for the ones they didn’t. She tried to see this as a challenge to overcome. She liked challenges, but not being able to type at her usual speed or even pick up a pencil was getting harder and harder to deal with.

She wanted to say that her arms felt like dead weight on the armrests of her wheelchair, but they didn’t feel like anything. Every time she needed someone to pick something up for her, to help her get from room to room and task to task, it was another reminder that she wasn’t the same. She couldn’t be her own hands, she needed other people to do simple mundane things that used to be thoughtless.

Frustration used to motivate her, but this was suffocating.

* * *

Zuko couldn’t remember ever being this worried before. The girl sitting in front of him was so different from the vibrant, radiant one that had pulled him from his darkness. This wasn’t the hopeful, passionate Katara he’d met years ago. She was loosing who she was, and she wasn’t fighting to get it back. She let him help her with school and small day to day things, but she wasn’t letting him in. She wasn’t telling him she was in pain.

Katara had always been better at math than him. He took notes each lesson, but over the past year he’d gotten used to coming to her for help with it. Having the situation switched was difficult for both of them.

They were sitting at the desk in her room with a string of numbers neither of them could make sense of on the page in front of them. They were both irritated, both at the work and each other. He watched Katara narrow her eyes and purse her lips, trying to find another angle. He’d given up five minutes ago, but knew the second she said something was the second she’d snap at him.

He was pretty sure she was on the cusp of something when the pencil she’d been holding in her mouth to keep track of each number fell. It clattered to the ground loudly, shattering thesilent, built up tension. She closed her eyes.

“I’ll get it,” he told her.

“Don’t,” her voice cut through the space around them.

“It’s not a big deal,” he bent to pick up the pencil.

“Can you just stop?” She asked sharply.

“Stop helping you?” He asked back, because no matter how much he was trying he was still irritated.

“Just stop treating me like I’m made of glass,” she exclaimed.

Zuko took a breath.

“Katara, calm down,” he said softly.  

"That is exactly what I’m talking about,” her tone darkened. “My life is gone. It’s gone, Zuko, and all anyone is doing is pitying me! None of you are looking at me like I’m the same person. I’m not. I’m someone I don’t even know, and I can’t do anything about it!”

There were tears in her eyes. He’d never seen her this frantic before. She was tipping over the edge. He was watching her fall.

“I’m weak now,” her voice broke. “I’m weak and hurt and it’s never going to go away.”

Zuko sat there and watched the bravest person he knew dissolve. Frustration melted into self pity, and that morphed into hopelessness. Even in the hospital—even after almost drowning—she’d never looked this out of rope.

“This isn’t like when my mom died, or when that administrator said I wasn’t smart enough to skip a grade,” she was looking at her motionless arms. “When I try to fight this it just gets worse, and times not gonna make that better. I have nothing left. You had to convince my teachers to let me keep up with school. I’m not gonna be able to move to college in a year. And we—”

Her eyes flickered to him now. The rest of that sentence didn’t leave her lips, and Zuko didn’t have it in him to hope for what it might have been.

“I’m suffocating,” she uttered. “And I don’t think it’s gonna get better.”

Zuko looked into the eyes that had once been full of an everlasting light. He looked at the girl he’d fallen in love with, and the friend who’d stayed by his side when he needed her. This was why all of that had happened. This moment was why he’d been thrown into Katara’s life.

“You’re an idiot,” he stated.

“Excuse me?” she blinked at him, shock more than offense displayed on her face.

“You heard me,” he crossed his arms. “You’re an idiot.”

“Zuko—”

"Do you remember when we first met?” He asked her.

“That doesn’t have anything to—”

“Do you remember?” He repeated.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Do you remember when my dad tried to burn my face off with a lighter and I called you?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“And when I was going to go back to my house and you stopped me?” He went on. “When you made me call my uncle and tell him what was happening?”

“Yes, I remember everything,” her voice was laced with impatience and confusion.

“Every time I’ve been angry, and scared, and alone, you helped me.” He gave each word it’s full weight. “You stood by me when no one else would.”

“Zuko.”

“I’m not pitying you,” he told her. “I’m trying to be here for you, like you were for me.”

There was a flicker in her eyes. She was listening to him. He was reaching her.

“Did you ever see me as weak?” He asked her.

“What?”

“When I was living with my dad, and coming to school with bruises and red eyes, did you ever see me as weak?” What had been barely two years ago felt like ages now.

“No,” she answered. “Of course not.”

“How about ugly?” He questioned. “I mean half my face is scarred over, I’m not exactly good looking.”

“Stop it,” she muttered.

“I don’t see you differently,” he pressed. “I’m never going to. You’re smart, and vibrant, and you don’t take anything without a fight. You might not be able to throw a punch, but you still scare the shit out of me and I bet anyone who tries to get in your way.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Her voice was softer now. She was asking him for help. In her own way, she was telling him she needed it.

“What you do best,” he smiled at her. “Keep fighting.”

“I’m not getting better.” This was the first time he’d heard her say this with the full, terrifying meaning of it.

“Fine,” he said evenly. “Then be amazing without your arms.”

“It’s gonna be so hard,” she whispered.

“You’re Katara,” he gently nudged her shoulder. “You can do anything.”

* * *

_“You really don’t have to help,” Zuko told Katara for what felt like the hundreth time._

_“We’re almost done,” she shrugged dropping a box onto his new bed._

_He was moving in with his uncle. He didn’t know where his sister was going, and he didn’t really have it in him to care. He was finally free of his father and the house that had kept him prisoner for fourteen years._

_Zuko glanced at the mirror. The scarf he had draped over half of his face looked ridiculous, and the lack of depth perception wasn’t exactly making the job any easier. Still, it was better than seeing what he looked like now. It was better than Katara seeing that._

_He reached for the box at his feet, but missed. He was going to get fed up with the lack of depth perception really quickly. Sighing to himself, he moved closer to pick it up._

_“Just take it off.” Katara was still standing in the doorway, her eyes on him._

_“It’s fine.” He was about to turn away from her, but like in the boy’s bathroom when she first forced her way into his life, she was across the room before he could blink._

_Smoothly, she pulled the scarf off his face and dropped it on the bed. He winced. He’d made sure she didn’t see it in the hospital, but there was no way to hide his face from her now. He waited for her to recoil. He didn’t see how anyone couldn’t._

_Then she was smiling a warm, bright, and completely genuine smile._

_“I think there a three more boxes,” she said as she turned to leave the room._

_She was beautiful, even—no, especially through the stubbornness._

* * *

Katara accepted that she was frustrated. She accepted that she was upset, and she was damaged, and what happened to her sucked. But Zuko was right. That didn’t have to stop her. She wasn’t going to let it.

She spent the next few days channeling the frustration. She took advantage of the free time that not going to school gave her, and started researching everything that the hospital hadn’t told her. She looked at research currently being done to find cures for paralysis. She learned more about why what was happening in her body was happening.

Purely on accident, she stumbled upon a disability activism page. That took her to forums, to documentation of protests and rallies. She found a community of people like her who were marked as damaged, but weren’t letting that stop them. She wasn’t alone. She was part of a fight so much bigger than her, and there were so many people ready to welcome her into their ranks.

There were ways for her to show who she was. There were ways for her to prove to everyone that this wasn’t going to stop her, and maybe someone like her would see her and realize the same thing about themselves.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she was motivated. She was ready to take on the world, and she wasn’t going to let anything knock her down.

* * *

It was very hard for Zuko not to grin when Katara ranted to him about the mistreatment of the rights of those with disabilities. This was the best sign he could have hoped for. This was the Katara he knew. She was energized, and pissed off, and ready to take on the world. She was doing better.

He could see the light seeping back into her. It would take a bit for it to be back to its full strength, but he knew that would happen. He knew her, and he knew the fire she was capable of. She was pulling herself out of the darkness, and he was there to support her journey.

It was only a month later, when Katara was getting ready to take the exams on content she’d only learned through him, that he realized something.

At the beach, before all of this had happened, he’d been so certain that she could do better than him. He’d thought he would drag her down, but maybe he was wrong. Nothing could drag her down, maybe she needed him not just as a support. Maybe she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Working up the courage was difficult. Part of him wanted to laugh, because after everything the both of them had been through he was positive that this was the most normal thing he’d ever been stressed out about. He called Aang and asked for advice. It wasn’t much help, but at least someone thought it was going to go smoothly for him.

There wasn’t anything particularly amazing about the day he chose. They were sitting at Katara’s desk. They’d decided that they were finished studying for the day, and were both fairly exhausted. The tiredness might have helped him work up the nerve.

“Do you wanna get dinner sometime?” He blurted. It sounded so unsure and juvenile. “As in a date.”

That made it worse. That made it so much worse. He was about to die of embarrassment, when he realized that she wasn’t answering. She looked surprised.

He messed up. Why had he thought that she’d see this coming? Why had he thought she’d want this? She was his best friend, she was his emotional support and he was supposed to be hers. This was crossing a line. Now she’d think that he’d only stuck by her because of this. How could he be this stupid?

“Yeah,” she finally said. Then a wide smile spread across her face. Then light filled the entire room. “I’d love to.”

He wanted to dance. He wanted to fly. This was the most elated he had ever felt, and he was going to explode.

“Are you sure?” Suddenly her face was full of conflict. He didn’t know how to answer, but she seemed to understand that. “I’m not normal anymore. Whatever this is gonna be, it can’t be a normal relationship.”

She didn’t think she was good enough for him. _Katara_ didn’t think she was good enough for _Zuko_. He would have laughed if she didn’t look so serious.

“We were never going to have a normal relationship,” he stated.

She didn’t look convinced. For the first time, Zuko let himself drop his last wall. There wasn’t any going back now, he might as well be completely honest, and bare, and raw. He owed her that much.

“I love you,” he uttered. “I think I have for a long time. I love talking to you, and arguing with you, and being in the same room as you. I don’t give a damn about normal, I just want you.”

“I love you too,” her eyes were bright.

“We can fight the world together,” he declared. “Because I promise, I will stand by every mess you get yourself into, I don’t care how big it is."

“Shut up and kiss me,” she laughed.

Zuko didn’t need to be told twice. Gently, he pressed his lips against hers. She leaned into him. He cupped her face with his palm and let his other hand get lost in her beautiful hair. He loved her, and she loved him, and it didn’t matter what life had left to throw at them.

She had been there for him in his lowest moments, and he had been there for her in hers. Their future wasn’t going to be perfect, or conventional, or anything he knew how to predict. But he was certain it was going to be full of light.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out my Tumblr @piperemerald for why this was written and what I'm working on now!


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